The Drive. The Fumble. Red Right 88. The Curse of Rocky Colavito. Jose Mesa and Tony Fernandez. As a Cleveland fan, I’ve become accustomed to dramatic losses.

The Browns of the ‘80s and the Indians of the ‘90s each had a remarkable penchant for being just good enough to lose in heartbreaking fashion. For years, the Browns excelled at the dramatic comeback, only to fall just short when the games mattered most. The only thing they did better was lose leads in dramatic fashion.

When the first incarnation of the Browns skipped town in ’95, it’s almost as if they passed their ability directly to the Indians. Beginning with Mesa’s implosion in the ninth inning of game seven in ’97, the Indians were ushered out of four consecutive postseasons after leading by at least one game in their final series. In 1999 and 2001, the Indians played five divisional playoff games where a win would have propelled them to the ALCS, and they lost every one of those games.

All of this makes Cleveland fans a peculiar lot. My father still screams at his 1980 highlight film when Sam Rutigliano and Brian Sipe discuss the final play call. I spent the second half of the 1987 AFC Championship game trying to see the television from the bathroom because my father became convinced that I was somehow providing positive karma from that position.

So in a way, it came as a bit of a relief when current Indian GM Mark Shapiro pulled the plug on the team in 2002 by trading Bartolo Colon. No more tough losses. Just a nice, uncomplicated, unemotional rebuild. Most of Cleveland checked out after Jim Thome departed the following offseason, and ticket sales declined dramatically.

This is year three of the rebuild, and it started off poorly. A 9-14 April made it look like contention was still at least a year away. And then slowly but surely, something started to change. Strong pitching in May carried a weak offense, and the team began edging toward .500. The offense mysteriously gelled with the firing of Eddie Murray in June, and the Indians scored the most runs in the majors that month in breaking the .500 barrier.

After a brief swoon around the All-Star break, the Indians suddenly caught fire in a way seldom seen. And now, when you look at the numbers, they have the third best record in the majors, the best record in the AL since May 1, and the best record in the majors since August 1. They lead for the wild card by a game. They control their own destiny in the division, which means they could actually pull off the comeback from the greatest deficit in major league history.

Despite all this positive momentum, I think I speak for most Cleveland fans when I say that I’m basically waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s all too good to be true. I want to curl up and hide and wait for the whole thing to be over.

Yet the surprise of the whole thing has an undeniable pull. It makes me want to just recognize the wonderful combination of resilience and youthful exuberance that has brought the team this far, and tell myself that just reaching this point is a tremendous achievement. Even if they come up short, to do battle with the Bosox and Yankees, whose payrolls each at least triple that of the Indians, up to this point of the season is wonderful. To come back from 15 games down to cut the White Sox lead to 2.5 games is historic in and of itself.

But of course that isn’t how it works. This is how they get you. You tell yourself that as a fan you’re just happy to be here. But eventually they’re going to push it just far enough that you no longer feel that way – that you develop that hope for a championship. And that’s when they break your heart.